


The Gift of Choice

by ASongofIceandHope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Forced Exhibitionism, Ginny knows all, One Shot, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Sad Draco to Happy Draco, Why am I writing so much Dramione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 04:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASongofIceandHope/pseuds/ASongofIceandHope
Summary: Draco Malfoy never thought that he would be indebted to Hermione Granger. But sometimes it takes a kind word to make a world of difference.Alternate HBP events.





	The Gift of Choice

**Author's Note:**

> So as this says, an important scene in Half-Blood Prince is going to go very differently in this fic. The bathroom scene.  
> Also, I flipped it so the bathroom scene happens before Christmas Break instead of after. Again, this is canon divergent so *shrugs*

Even when Harry doesn't think she's watching, he seems to forget she knows just how he thinks and can figure out just what's going on in a heartbeat. So when he tailed after Draco Malfoy and followed him toward the boys’ lavatory, Hermione was on her feet in an instant.

“Harry!” she called out. “Harry, wait!” The dark-haired young man ahead of her huffed and turned to face her. It didn't escape her notice that he pocketed his wand as well.

“Hermione, I know you don't think—“

“It doesn't matter what I think, Harry. What do you think you're going to accomplish by chasing Malfoy into the loo? You can't duel him; you'll just land both of you in detention. And don't tell me you're planning on using that spell from that bloody textbook because you have no idea what it does and it could get you expelled!” she scolded. Hermione could feel the frustration rolling off her best friend, and she crossed her arms defensively.

“Then what do you suggest I do?” he asked bitterly. “Have him up to the common room for tea and while he's going in for a crumpet ask, ‘Malfoy, by the way, are you a Death Eater?’” 

Without responding, Hermione simply pushed past him and started toward the lavatory door. Harry protested, but she threw a silencing charm at him particularly, and made her way inside. She knew this year had been hard on Harry, and she knew that he was very suspicious of Draco Malfoy, but Hermione felt like she had been the only one to notice a major change in the little blond twat. Not that he was very little, anymore, of course. None of them were the small children they had been when they stepped off the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. And being friends with Harry had taught her that they all had faced some very difficult decisions. Part of her believed that Malfoy hadn't been given much of a decision in anything as of late.

When she went in, she noticed him immediately. He was bent over one of the porcelain sinks, gripping the sides of it tightly. And while Malfoy has always been ridiculously fair-skinned, he looked downright sickly judging from his reflection. 

He saw her in the mirror, and even his usual sneer seemed halfhearted. 

“What do you want, filthy little Mudblood?” he grumbled. While normally that word elicited a burst of both pride and disgust in her, all she managed to feel was pity. 

“I… You haven't been right on my tail in marks this year,” she stated. “I was wondering why that was…” Malfoy laughed and she knew why. Lying had never really been her strong suit. Her parents had always known when she was lying because she would fidget with the sleeves of her jumper, and she was doing that exact thing at the moment. 

“You are a bloody awful liar, Granger,” he stated. 

“Well not all of us grew up with a Death Eater for a father,” she snapped. Her words struck a nerve, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edges of the sink even tighter. “I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean—“

“Yes you did, Granger,” he sighed. One of his hands left the sink and he ran it over his face. 

“It… It’s never too late, Malfoy,” Hermione reminded. “The ink isn't dry yet. There's still time to do some good, if you choose.” Cautiously, she walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. To her surprise, he didn't try to shrug her hand off. Her gaze flitted to the mirror as they stood there, and part of her brain contemplated what a nice-looking pair they made, while the other was alarmed at just how exhausted and sickly Malfoy appeared. 

“It's hard to do some good when you…” he trailed off and rolled up his left shirtsleeve. “… when you have this bloody thing on your arm.” 

Hermione swallowed hard. She had never seen a Dark Mark up close, and for the first time in her life her heart ached for the boy who had made it his mission in childhood to torment her because of what he had been raised to believe. Draco Malfoy may have been a bigot and blood supremacist, but he was not a murderer, and her certainly wasn't a psychopath like most of Voldemort’s followers. 

“That doesn't have to define you,” she stated. “Professor Snape… do you know about… him? What he's done for the Light? He's got that.. that thing on his arm too. Just because Voldemort finds joy in branding his followers doesn't mean he owns you, Draco Malfoy.”

He shook his head and she noticed tears welling up. “Merlin, Granger, to live in your world…” Draco muttered. “Things aren't that simple, you know? This… This isn't some stupid story or something where everyone can do the right thing.” A shudder overtook him and he cursed internally; he was not going to cry in front of Hermione Granger. He was not. 

But when he looked up and found those soft eyes that were filled with every emotion except hate and disgust, he broke down. 

Slumping to the floor, he buried his face in his hands. Hermione’s burgeoning maternal instinct kicked in and she knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Draco was genuinely sobbing now, and he would have felt weak and pathetic for seeking comfort from Hermione Granger of all people but damn her she was the only one who had shown him an ounce of compassion all school year. While his fellow Slytherins, who were supposed to be his friends, has praised the stupid glorified tattoo on his arm and confessed that they couldn't wait to have their own, they failed to realize just how scared he was of his world. 

“M-My mum…” he sniffed against her shoulder. “The… The only reason… I-I-I did this… he said he'd k-kill her. Said he'd… Oh, Merlin…” Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Draco, I would do the same thing in that situation,” she murmured. “No one blames you.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he grumbled. “You're the Gryffindor Princess. You'd rather die than join the Dark Lord.” 

“You're not wrong. But I also have no connections to him and haven't grown up around all this madness,” she reminded. “You're not a bad person because you've inherited a bad situation. You also don't have to let your family’s decisions define you. Think… Think of the Potters, for example. They were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. But James Potter didn't let something that defined his family define him when he married Lily.”

“Really? Using the Potters as a life lesson?” Draco chuckled weakly. “Though I see your point, Granger. I just… I don't know if I can… if I can get over generations of this shit.” 

At the sound of male voices hovering around the door, Hermione got to her feet and offered a hand to Draco. He took it, and slowly got to his feet. “Well, I can't force you to change your mind. But if you do, you know where to find me,” she smiled slightly before turning around and walking out of the bathroom. 

Draco wasn't sure if Hermione realized it, but she had just given him his freedom of will back.

*****

When he entered the Gryffindor common room a few days later, it took all of two seconds before someone threw a hex at him. It was Ginny Weasley who did the honors, and considering what his father put her through during her first year because of that bloody horcrux, Draco figured he more than deserved the jelly-legs jinx that forced him to fall face-first onto the floor. 

“What's this bloody git doing in here?” Ron asked as soon as he came in from the boys’ dormitory. 

A a flash of caramel-colored brown hair zoomed down from one of the staircases, Draco felt relieved when Hermione helped him to his feet. The fact that Ron stared at the both of them like his entire world was crashing down around him was just an added bonus.

“So I assume you've changed your mind?” Hermione inquired. “Because if you haven't I will let Ginny continue to hex you until you can't walk straight for a week.”

He laughed for what was probably the first time in months, and smiled. “I have changed my mind,” he confirmed. “I… I have always admired Professor Snape, and when you told me that he was basically a… what's the muggle phrase? Double agent? Well, I decided I want to do that too.”

Ron practically fell over.

“I'm glad, Draco,” Hermione stated, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. The affectionate display didn't miss Ginny’s ever-observant gaze and she smirked. “Does Snape know that you've… more or less defected?”

“He was the first person I went to, actually,” Draco admitted as they sat down together on the sofa. “It's funny, really; as soon as I told him, he asked if…” 

“Asked what?” Ginny pressed, sitting on the arm of the sofa behind Hermione. 

Draco laughed, though he obviously was biting back a snide comment for Ginny with great effort. “He asked if I had decided to become a double agent because of you, Granger,” he explained. “I told him that oddly enough, you were the one who reminded me I had a choice in the first place, so I supposed he could say you led me to the decision.”

Ginny had never seen Hermione grin as widely as she did then, and Ron began to feel ill. 

But it's Harry who has the worst time adjusting to the new reality. He just missed Draco, entering the common room moments after he left. He heard about the events secondhand from Ron, who of course exaggerated the encounter. 

“Hermione, you know I don't trust him,” he sighed. 

“I know. But who are we to try and deny him the chance to reform himself?” she reminded. “And besides, his family is in Voldemort’s inner circle. His value to the Order would be… well, if he's genuinely changing we would never be able to repay him for the information he can probably get us. Try to be open-minded, Harry.”

When Hermione left the room to go to the library, Harry looked at Ginny questioningly.

“What's really going on, Gin?” he asked. 

“Oh, they're in love with each other,” she hummed. “They just don't know it yet.”

That time, Ron did faint.

*****

And when Draco went with Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys to the Burrow for Christmas holiday, it was Molly Weasley’s turn to faint. Of course, she and Arthur (along with the rest of the Order) were well aware of Draco’s decision to turn double-agent for them, but never in her wildest dreams had she expected him on her doorstep, donning a Slytherin scarf and an expensive wool coat with Hermione by his side. 

“They make quite the odd pair,” she muttered one evening while Ginny was helping her clean up after supper. 

“I don't know mum,” she shrugged. “I don't think Draco has stopped smiling since he got on the train to London and went with us instead of staying at Hogwarts. It's kind of strange, considering what a tosser he usually is. Never seen him so happy.” 

Molly said nothing further, and simply turned to look at the pair who were sitting on her sofa with books open and tea steaming on the coffee table. Hermione had her feet in his lap, and the Slytherin Prefect seemed completely comfortable with the situation. Whenever she needed Hermione, Draco was always right behind her, and whenever she needed Draco, Hermione was right by his side. It became a little family joke; it was like Draco knew that Hermione didn't really need him, but she understood that he needed her. 

And the pair themselves had reached a good agreement. It was a budding friendship, and it was enough to get Harry and Ron to swear to not jinx him in his sleep while he shared a room with them. 

Of course, Ginny went up to bed to find Draco curled up with Hermione more times than she cared to admit. 

It was a night like that when he told her the secret. The secret that he could probably get killed for sharing. But he didn't rightly care as her fingers entwined with his and she nestled into his side. “He… You-Know-Who… He wants me to kill Dumbledore,” he admitted. Hermione sat up, he fingers still intertwined with his, but her face was riddled with confusion. “I don't want to do it, Hermione. I can't do it. If… If I fail though, someone else will.” 

At first he was worried she was going to either cry or punch him, but instead she settled back down next to him and tilted his head so he was looking into her eyes. “You always have a choice,” she murmured before kissing him. When she pulled away, he ran a hand through her hair before cupping her cheek in his hand.

“I've made it. I chose you.”

*****

The start of spring term brought its own fair share of trials. Among them was the looming deadline for Draco’s mission from Voldemort. Thus far, whenever he was summoned by the Dark Lord he had proved a cunning and brilliant Occlumens. But as the school year began to come to a close and Albus Dumbledore was still alive, the Dark Lord began to get impatient. And Draco slipped up.

“Ah,” Voldemort chuckled, “what do we have here?” Draco paled as soon as he realized just what he was seeing, and gulped. “Oh Draco, what would your dear father say? Fun and frolic with a little mudblood? And Potter’s mudblood no less? Not very comely of you, I must say.”

His Aunt Bellatrix frowned. “Draco would never!” she shrieked. 

Oh, but Draco would. Many times, actually. The particular memory was especially mortifying; Hermione had asked him to skip his Prefect rounds to meet her in the Prefects’ bathroom, and they had plenty of time and plenty of fun in the giant bathtub that was entirely at their disposal at that time of night. 

“She's just a means to an end, My Lord,” he declared. “She is close to Potter, so she is close to the Order. I would never have real affections for a mudblood. And I swear that your… problem… will be taken care of before the end of the year.”

When he returned to Hogwarts, he'd broken down at the sight of Hermione. 

“You're not safe,” he murmured. “He saw. He saw you, he saw us… He doesn't know what I am to you, but he has an idea about what you are to me. I lied to him, of course, but I doubt that makes much of a difference.” Draco cupped her face and kissed her forehead, and before long he couldn't stop kissing her; he kissed her temples and her cheeks, the tip of her nose and her soft pink lips. “I love you. I love you and I fucked up and I don't… I don't think I have the power to protect you, Hermione.”

He didn't realize it then, of course, but it was the first time he'd told her he loved her.

“You don't have to protect me,” she said as she cupped his face in her hands. “And… I love you too.” 

*****

The night after it happened, she was the first to come to his defense. The Order agreed that they all wanted him dead, but it was Hermione who stood her ground, holding his hand. “If Snape has turned, we can't throw out our last person on the inside,” she reminded them all. “And… And any of you who have a problem with Draco also have a problem with me.” 

“He stood idly by while Severus Snape killed Dumbledore!” Harry shouted. “How can you defend him, Hermione?” Ginny frowned and looked around at all of them.

“Merlin, isn't it obvious?” she huffed. “They're in love, you twats. And don't question how I know this because you all haven't walked in on them shagging. You can cast a hell of a silencing charm, by the way, Malfoy.” Draco isn't sure what's redder: his face or Ginny’s hair. 

Ron stormed out, muttering something about it all being “impossible,” but Harry stayed. 

“Draco, what do you know about horcruxes?” he asked.

*****

He had told them he would be an added danger when they left to go track down Voldemort’s remaining horcruxes. While Ron had agreed with him and tried to talk Harry and Hermione out of it, he found himself roughing it with three people who had been his enemies in his childhood. Ron decided to punish Hermione then to make sure she never got any alone time with Draco, but he underestimated both their levels of creativity. 

“Do you think Ron is ever going to catch on to why we both go for firewood every time we need it?” Hermione asked breathlessly as they lay together on the old quilt she had shrunk and took with them into the woods.

“Well, it's been months and he hasn't even begun to ask questions,” Draco reminded. “I think we’re safe.” Hermione laughed and kissed him before grabbing her jumper and pulling it on. “Hermione, when this is all over, and saying that we both make it out of this alive and whatnot… do you want to get married?” 

“Are you serious?” she asked, turning back to him. Draco nodded.

“Very serious,” he replied. “I don't think I could go a day without getting to see you, Hermione. Which, is why…” he tugged his boxer shorts on and scooted toward her on his knees. His jeans were laying right by her and he rummaged through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. “Which is why I want you to wear this.” 

It's not the fact that he actually had a ring picked out for her. Hermione was not shocked by that at all. It was the fact that he knew her taste better than Ron ever would, and she and Draco had been friends for little more than a year, and shagging for… well, for about as long, if she was honest with herself. The little band was gold, with an oval-cut ruby encircled with diamond baguettes. She gave him his hand with a small smile, and he slipped it onto her left ring finger. 

Hermione only had a moment to admire it before she spotted Harry coming toward them. He knew about what they did when they went off alone together, but he was a good friend and hadn't told Ron yet.

“We need to start think—bloody hell, put some clothes on,” he groaned. Draco obliged him and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s waist. “We need to start thinking about our next move.”

They were caught by Snatchers the next day.

*****

Draco thought he was going to be sick as the Dark Lord praised him for bringing Potter and his friends to him. He'd had no intention of doing such a thing, yet Voldemort was convinced otherwise. When the monster that now occupied his childhood home turned his attention to Hermione, his stomach lurched and it took all of his strength not to break down. 

“Ah yes, the little mudblood whore,” Voldemort chuckled. “I've seen plenty of you. Though I wonder, are young Mr. Malfoy’s memories of you accurate? Or are they compensating for a pretty face?” 

Harry and Ron both shout and fight as they're dragged away, leaving Hermione and Draco in the presence of almost every Death Eater and the Dark Lord himself. 

If he turned around, Draco knew he would see his father glaring daggers at him. Lucius Malfoy was not at all pleased that his son and heir had been caught with Potter, and, if the Snatchers were to be believed, he was holding Hermione Granger’s hand as they tried to escape. Every inch of Draco’s very being wanted to shout at his father that he had indeed been holding Hermione’s hand, and he had done plenty more with her that would make him disown him in a heartbeat, but he couldn't considering whose presence they were in. 

“Release her bonds,” Voldemort ordered. “I want a show.” 

Hermione was relieved when the binding spell was lifted from her wrists, but she worried about the tone of Voldemort’s voice. She glanced at Draco from the corner of her eye and she could tell he was just as worried as she was. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get on with it!” the Dark Lord demanded. 

Draco swallowed as much pride as he could and hauled Hermione to her feet. “Kiss me,” he growled in her ear. “Do it, and maybe we can make it out of here alive.” She did as she was told, and gently pressed her lips to his. He didn't hesitate to deepen it, letting his hands roam around as much as he wanted. Hermione didn't fight it. She wasn't much of an exhibitionist, but if it meant that she might be allowed to slip away with Draco then she would strip right then and there. 

“That's child’s play!” the demon watching them intently heckled. “Every third year can snog someone! Let's see how talented your little mudblood is, Draco. I'm sure everyone is eager to see…” Everyone, save for the Dark Lord himself and a few of his most repulsive followers, seemed uneasy. 

“Draco…” Hermione mumbled. Her hand grazed his belt buckle and he hesitated before nodding. How the Dark Lord expected him to get it up with his parents and his aunt in the room was beyond him. Bloody hell, he thought about Voldemort when he needed to stop an inconvenient hard-on. As Hermione dropped to her knees, she could sense his unease and looked up at him through her lashes. “Just keep your eyes on me, Draco.” Even when they had fucked she had never used such a soft, sexy little voice, and his cock responded in kind. 

She undid his belt, and started to unbutton his trousers. Her right hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, stroking him until he was throbbing in her grasp. With her left hand, she tugged down his underwear until his member sprang free. Her eyes locked with his as she ran her tongue up the underside of his length. A soft groan escaped his lips.

“Good girl,” he sighed. Hermione giggled and slowly swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before taking him into her mouth. She took as much of him as she could, gagging slightly as she sheathed him almost completely. “Fuck…” Draco’s right hand tangled in her hair, and he thrust steadily in and out of her mouth. 

Hermione heard someone storm out of the room, and she was vaguely aware that it had been Narcissa and not Lucius who had snapped first. 

She looked up at Draco, and he smirked down at her; it was his old arrogant smirk from school, and even though it was just an act, she felt herself grow wet at the sight. Knowing how much it turned him on, Hermione moaned softly around his cock. He usually didn't last much longer after she did that.

“You like that?” he panted. “You're so good with your mouth, my little slut. If you’re a good girl and you swallow, I'll take… fuck… good care of you later.” 

The predictably steady pace of his hips stuttered slightly and Hermione knew what that meant. Draco let her take over, and she bobbed her head at a slower, easier pace until he groaned and she felt the familiar throb and twitch of his release. His seed splashed the back of her throat and she swallowed. When she pulled away, a little drop of his cum dribbled down her chin and she heard a fair few of the Death Eaters suppress groans of their own at the sight. Draco quickly put his cock away and did up his trousers, looking up at Voldemort. 

“Let me see her,” Voldemort said. “Keep her on her knees.” Hermione turned on her knees, hoping her eyes weren't just feral from what she'd just done. 

But every man in the room was leering at her, Draco’s father included. Her hair, which she had tamed rather well since fourth year, was wild, and her eyes shone dark with lust and triumph from getting Draco off so expertly. Her lips were parted slightly as she caught her breath, and when she realized there was a bit of his seed on her face, Hermione wiped it off with a finger and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it clean.

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly. “Good girl,” he praised, though it didn't sound half as good as it sounded coming from Draco. “Bellatrix, what do you think of the mudblood’s performance? Did she not take good care of your nephew?”

“She upset my sister,” Bellatrix sniffed. “I don't like this at all.”

The deranged brunette rose to her feet from her place beside the Dark Lord, her wand drawn. Draco could feel what she was thinking about doing, and he was not about to allow it. Unlike Hermione, Ron, and Harry, he had not been relinquished of his wand. Though he knew he couldn't put himself completely between the two, he kept his eyes trained on his aunt as she sauntered over to them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione steel herself and he cursed her reckless Gryffindor bravery. 

“She's got fire!” Bellatrix cackled as she drew her wand. “I think I can take care of that… Crucio!” 

Draco threw a shield but he wasn't quick enough. Hermione collapsed to the ground, thrashing and writhing as she screamed in horror. Her words about having a choice echoed through his skull and before he knew what he was doing, he disarmed his aunt. 

Just as the wand flew out of her hand, Narcissa Malfoy ran into the room in distress.

“Potter and his little friend escaped,” she declared. Her gaze locked with Draco’s and he had a strange feeling she had something to do with the act. 

In their haste to try and get Harry and Ron, all the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself lost interest in Draco and Hermione and left the room. Narcissa walked toward them, helping Draco with Hermione who was still twitching from being exposed to Bellatrix’s unusually powerful Cruciatus curse. 

“Get her out of here,” she told Draco. “Go now, before someone returns.” 

He took Hermione’s hand in his and apparated out of there without another thought.

*****

When the final battle came, Draco was a target for both sides. Many members of the Order still didn't trust him or believe he was on their side, while the Death Eaters despised his very being. Lucius was furious, as Draco’s betrayal had earned them a reputation as blood traitors. But Hermione was at his side, and she had his back as much as he had hers. In the thick of the fighting, he spotted his aunt watching Hermione with a murderous look in her eye, and he grit his teeth. She hadn't seen him yet, and didn't know he was fighting back to back with Hermione.

A quick pivot on his heel and he threw his first killing curse. It didn't miss.

Hermione stared at him for a second, but didn't say a word. She just grinned and went back to fighting. 

When the worst of it was over, he and Hermione were sitting in the Great Hall when Harry returned with a vial he'd borrowed from her earlier. She looked at him questioningly and he looked down at the vial with a strange expression on his face. “Snape,” was all he said. Draco got to his feet and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Go do what you need to do,” he told him. 

“Miss Granger!” A very cross Madam Pomfrey hurried over to her. “What do you think you're doing, fighting in your condition?” Hermione was puzzled and got to her feet. “Your magical footprint is just off the charts; has no one told you that's typically a sign of pregnancy in a witch?” Her brows scrunched together and began to count back the weeks when Draco spoke up.

“You missed your period about… two months ago,” he stated. She gaped at him. 

“You… kept track?” she questioned. “But… we were careful! How…?” 

“I'm fairly sure you know ‘how,’ Hermione,” Draco chuckled. “I thought you would have figured it out by now; I was going to wait until after the battle to point it out to you, but… Madam Pomfrey ruined that for me.” The matron chuckled slightly and went off to tend to more serious matters.

“Then I really shouldn't be here,” Hermione pointed out. “I should be anywhere but here. But… But I can't leave. I can't leave all these people who care about me, who I care about…”

“Then we’ll stay.”

*****

And they stayed until the very end. 

The months after the battle were filled with trial after trial of Death Eaters and other associates of the Dark Lord. Draco received a pardon, and with his help, more than one Death Eater was thrown to Azkaban, or received the Dementor’s Kiss. He took it easy on some of his classmates, but for the most part he didn't have any qualms about revealing the character of the people had occupied his house for the better part of nearly three years. 

Until he was called to testify in the trial of his own father.

The Ministry was three months into trials at that point, and Hermione was about five months pregnant at the time. They were living in London together, in a townhouse that his family owned. They'd married quickly and quietly after the Battle of Hogwarts, with just friends and family present. 

“You don't have to do it, you know,” she said. Her hands rested on her belly, which was beginning to swell. She hadn't told him yet, but she had found out yesterday from the midwife that they were going to have a boy. “Shacklebolt would understand.”

“I have to do this,” he sighed. “It will probably kill my mother, but I need to do this. Our child isn't going to grow up seeing their father slink away from conflict like I did.”

“Our son,” she corrected, placing one of his hands over the spot where the little Malfoy had been kicking furiously. Draco just stared at her for a moment before pulling her into a tight embrace, and she laughed delightedly. The clock in their entry hall chimed. “You need to go. Do you want me to come with you?” She was already dressed for the day, so it would have been little bother to her. 

“No,” he told her. “This is something I need to do by myself.”

It was a grueling trial. The Wizengamot cross-examined him multiple times, the attacks being led by those who still weren't happy about Shacklebolt pardoning him. 

“Doesn't it bother you, Mr. Malfoy, that you're now considered a blood traitor?” a witch in dark robes questioned. “You were raised to find dishonor in such a thing? Doesn't some small part of you want to defend your father and what he's done?” Draco’s fist clenched in his lap and he grit his teeth.

“Defend him?” Draco scoffed. “Defend the man who allowed Voldemort to strip me of my honor and dignity, defend the man who stood idly by while my now-wife was stripped of hers in front of the entire inter circle of Death Eaters, defend the man who cowered when my late aunt performed the Cruciatus curse on Hermione, who was at the time newly pregnant? My father is guilty of a great many things, wizards and witches. I have no qualms about letting you all deal with him as you see fit.” Draco rose to his feet when dismissed, not even bothering to look at his father when he walked out.

“You are no son of mine!” Lucius shouted after him. 

*****

Regulus Granger-Malfoy is born on the winter solstice of 1998. They debated back and forth for a while about the name, and eventually decided to name him after Sirius Black’s brother because while he had been a Slytherin he had shown to have the heart of a Gryffindor, not unlike the newborn’s own father. Much to Hermione’s surprise, the Malfoy genes won out and Regulus is born with nearly a full head of silvery-blond hair. Both Ginny and Harry think that Draco spends more time holding him than Hermione does that first day, but she certainly doesn't mind. 

“Just don't let him spoil him the way he was spoiled,” Ginny remarks as soon as Hermione gets Regulus back so he can be nursed. “Old habits die hard.”

“Very funny, Weasley,” Draco rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of Hermione’s bed. 

“Speaking of which, Draco and I wanted to ask if you and Harry would want to be Regulus’s godparents,” Hermione brought the subject up as casually as possible. Both Ginny and Harry brighten instantly. “I take the looks on your faces as a yes?” 

“Of course!” Harry exclaims. “We… We would be honored, Hermione. Draco. Truly.”

“Who knew all it would take was a war for you two to get along?” Ginny snorts.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another happy ending. :)
> 
> Don't forget to drop some kudos/a comment!


End file.
